


Backgammon at Ronnies

by darkandstormyslash



Category: Legend (2015)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Politicians behaving badly, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 14:58:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5094950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkandstormyslash/pseuds/darkandstormyslash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Driberg of course, who brings it up. Poor lonely Driberg sat on his chair all alone.  “Bobby, have we ever, I don’t think we’ve ever – watched the boys together?”</p><p>IN WHICH politicians are bastards, Ronnie is a sweety and Leslie has a bit of a rough time of it. WARNINGS for dubious consent, prostitution-type-sex, descriptions of sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backgammon at Ronnies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dizzy_Eyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dizzy_Eyre/gifts).



> I've never sent anyone a gift fic before so I've NO IDEA when it's acceptable and when it comes across as creepily weird. But Dizzy's two Legend stories are fucking magnificent and I sort of want to read more of them :p I'm not sure whether gifting the worlds least sexy Teddy/Leslie sex scene will achieve that but ANYWAY this is for Dizzy_Eyre, with apologies.

It’s Driberg of course, who suggests it. Poor lonely Driberg sat on his chair all alone. I’m on the sofa next to Bobby Boothby, Teddy’s lazing at Ron’s feet by the easy chair, and Driberg’s got nobody. So he brings it up, the wanker.

“Bobby, have we ever, I don’t think we’ve ever – watched the boys together?”

Teddy gets it first, glances across at me with a dancing little smile. Bobby gets it next and I feel his hand tense and dig into my thigh. Ron doesn’t get it at all.

“Wot?” He’s a diamond, our Ron, but he’s not always the sharpest diamond.

“The two boys.” Driberg nods at Teddy with a smile. Jerks his head at me. “Teddy and Leslie. Have you ever?”

“That is naughty...” Bobby murmurs from next to me and I know the old fucker’s up for it. Teddy looks at Ron, eyebrows raised. Driberg looks at Ron. Bobby looks at Teddy. Nobody looks at me. But Ron still has that deep creased frown in his forehead so I spell it out a little for him.

“Tom wants to watch me and Teddy. Y’know. Together. Having a fool around.”

Ron’s expression clears. He’s not a voyeur, is Ron, why watch when you can do? But he’s happy to accept the twists and kinks of other men. Especially the powerful ones, the ones who’ll treat a heavy gutter brat from the East End like a Lord. The ones who’ll talk to him like a serious investor, who’ll humour his plans, and discuss his schemes. He likes being treated like that, does Ron.

“Yeah, we’ve never done that, ‘ave we Teddy?” Ron’s hand ruffles in Teddy’s hair and Teddy leans back, smiles at him. “What do you fink, you want to? You an’ Leslie?”

Teddy gives a laugh, “Can’t think why not.”

I can. I’ve got a whole fucking list of reasons why not but I keep my trap shut as Bobby pets me to stand up and Teddy pushes himself upright. We sorta meet in the middle, with our little audience of three surrounding us. Teddy leans forward and starts casually flicking the buttons open on my shirt and I realise I should probably be reciprocating. Then the three of them can get an eyeful of the wonderful naked body of Teddy Smith and some scrawny prick standing next to him.

Shirts off, kegs down, and then we’re standing there in our underwear, all awkward and nude. Teddy raises a hand to cup my face, I wrap an arm around his waist but it doesn’t really work. Lips meet, teeth click, noses bump, fucking hell it’s amateur porn hour here and I just want to sink into the carpet in shame. Ron’s still looking puzzled, head tilted, watching me and Teddy joined at the lips and trying to work out what’s so attractive in it. Why he’s meant to prefer this to getting a handful of Teddy for himself.

“Come on Teddy.” Driberg says, a little impatient, a little irritated. Ron gives him a glance and I wonder if Driberg has a death wish going. Teddy isn’t his to boss around anymore. It’s clear what he wants though and Teddy breaks away, looks at me, rolls his eyes, then gives my shoulders a little shove.

They want to watch a bit of a fight. Bit of a struggle. Course they do.

I push Teddy back, he gives me a slap and the sound echoes around the little room. Driberg leans forward, Boothby leans back, Ron mutters out a “Careful...” and I kick at Teddy’s shins. Then he lunges and we both roll around on the carpet for a while to give our two wanking aristocrats and one highly confused gangster a show.

After a few kid-slaps and some pretend punches I end up on top, straddling Teddy, slapping hands lightly down at him. Driberg does another, “Come /on/ Teddy...” and I glance at Ron. He’s not happy with that, not happy at all. He shoots me a frown, and then Teddy pinches my leg and rolls us both over again. It’s not really a fight, but I know sure as eggs that whoever looses it will very much be the sodomise-ee in this little fuck-up. And as soon as I realise that I know for absolute sure that I’m going to lose. Teddy isn’t going to let himself be fucked by a jumped up petty thief in front of Ron. Driberg isn’t sitting here to watch his favourite get buggered by someone else. And Bobby just enjoys watching me getting fucked six ways to Sundays.

I’m not convinced I want to end up on top either. Rather, I’d love to dip my wick in the cheeky little curves of Edward Smith, but I’m not ready yet to be remembered as one of the men who fucked Mad Teddy. I’m not sure I’m ready for Mad Teddy to remember I’ve done it either.

Another time maybe.

Probably not.

I let Teddy flip me over and roll me onto my front. I grip at the carpet and try and brace myself against it as the back of my underwear is tugged down. Bobby chuckles. Driberg shakes his head, “Well I wouldn’t think, really, it would be any other way I mean Teddy’s a real diamond in the rough. And Leslie...”

And Leslie what?

“Leslie is a dear, but...” Bobby sighs, breath catching, one hand languidly stroking down inside his trousers.

“Teddy’s a proper brawler.” Driberg says salaciously.

“Leslie Holt is a fuckin’ gem.” Ron rumbles.

That’s a surprise. I think it’s a surprise for everyone. It’s almost worth it as well, even as Teddy’s fingers suddenly dig into my hips and Teddy’s cock bounces free against my arse. Ronnie goes again with the “Careful...” and that’s the only reason I suspect that I get a grudging spit down and a rough finger that makes me squirm and mewl into the carpet below.

I’ve had worse. But I’ve certainly had better that I’ve not enjoyed. Ron’s looking down at us both, puzzled as to why I don’t look happier given I’m about to be pinned to the carpet by Teddy’s cock. For a moment I wonder if he’s ever ... but no. Not Ron. There’s no way Ron would let anyone take _him_ up the Khyber.

“He’s not made of glass.” Driberg says impatiently, and the finger yanks away and that’s it. That’s all I’m getting. I press my head against the carpet, grit my teeth, and when it comes it’s ... well it’s rough. Teddy’s not a small lad. Short, yeah. But not small. Mind you, circumstances like this even the smallest cock can feel like a cricket bat. My ears are rushing but I can hear Bobby give a groan, Driberg wittering away as he yanks his cock, “There’s a thing you can do, Bobby, with a piece of ice and a cigarette lighter, really makes them squeal.”

Teddy gives me a few seconds, pats my back encouragingly, then starts to sway his hips. I manage to open my eyes, dizzily blinking at the room for a moment before my eyes focus on Ronnie, still sitting on the sofa, looking at us.

And for a moment Teddy Smith’s nice clean pretty cock almost gets dirty because Ron looks furious.

Fucking furious. _Mental_.

It’s the longest second of my life before I realise that he’s not angry at me. He’s looking at me. Dead in the eye. But he’s not angry at me, because he’s angry _for_ me. There’s a difference and it’s blazing bright in Ronnie Kray’s eyes. Somehow that makes it all a bit more bearable. Ronnie’s in my corner and that gives me the strength to bite my lip and keep quiet as Teddy pummels into me, stretching and opening me up all awkward and sore and wrong.

I don’t know if Teddy’s clocked Ronnie’s expression, or if he’s just trying to finish off quick, but his hips are really pistoning back and forward and I just try and hang onto the carpet until it’s all over. I know what both Driberg and Bobby sound like when they finish and sure enough, as Teddy tilts his head back and gives a guttural little moan, they pop off like champagne corks. Teddy’s hands aren’t touching me anywhere, probably busy touching himself for the audience, and he pulls out before he does the deed, leaving a wet sticky mess over my back.

Then there’s just the stinging burn left behind, the rub of carpet against my knees. Bobby laughing, Driberg gushing, “You were far too easy on him Teddy, really I mean –“

The door to the room opens behind me. The sound of the party outside filters in. Two shoes, Ron’s shoes, move in front of me, and then Ron crouches down. The back of his fist knocks gently against my jaw, “Open up.”

I open my mouth and he slides end of the cigar against my lips. You’re not meant to inhale cigar smoke, it’s meant to flow around the inside of your mouth then mist out with your breath. But right now I need the stinging rasping bitter taste of the smoke going down the back of my throat. A kiss of life from Ronnie Kray. There’s a handkerchief next. Posh, clean, and I protest a little but Ronnie bats my words away.

“’S had his mess on before now.”

I clean up, tug my underwear back on, stand a little shakily. Ron’s hand pats gently at the small of my back and he glowers through the door at where Teddy, still in his underwear, is standing laughing by the drinks table. Driberg in front of him, Boothby behind him. A little Teddy sandwich. Ron jabs his cigar at the three of them, “’E shouldn’t ‘ave done that.”

I don’t know which one of them he’s talking about. Driberg for suggesting it, Boothby for not challenging it, or Teddy for doing it. Bending down, I pick my shirt up and shrug it over my shoulders.

“Shouldn’t ‘ave done that. Not to you. ‘Specially not to you. An’ it makes me look bad, see? You ‘aving to put up wiv that.”

I’m not arguing.

Ron’s frown deepens, and the next jab of the cigar is most definitely in Teddy’s direction. “Need a talk wiv ‘im.”

Ron’s hand on my back steers me out of the room. He flags down a waiter – or at least some scrubbed-up punk from over the river holding a tray of champagne. Hands him a few tenners, “Look after this one, yeah? Look after my Leslie, ‘e’s a gem, ‘e is. I don’t want anyone else touchin' ‘im tonight.” Over by the drinks Boothby puts a hand on Teddy’s thigh and mutters in his ear, Teddy laughs and then catches sight of Ron and falters.

Ron heads for the table, face like thunder. Looks like Ronnie’s Golden Boy is in trouble. Not that he minds, cheeky beggar, he’s got a sparkling smile and a pretty little naked body that might just get him part of the way out of it.

Not all the way though.

That’s the moment. Right there, stretched out on a sofa with a burning stab in my arse, and a bored lad feeding me champagne and muttering about wanting to go and have fun, that’s the moment that I fall in love with Ronnie Kray. Not a romantic kind of love, I’m not stupid, but there’s something _about_ Ronnie. Something deep and special burning within him. You want to tag along, to feel the strength in him, ‘specially when it flexes for you. You want to watch that burning spark to see what catches fire.

Half a minute later, when Teddy’s head hits the floor, I love him so much I swear I’d even let him take me, sore arse and all.


End file.
